


Weihnukka

by Colorfullyminded



Category: Gravity Falls, Over the Garden Wall (Cartoon & Comics)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), And Dipper's parents are Jewish but the twins were raised non religious, But I still wanted them to celebrate Hanukkah because it doesn't get much love, Chrismukkah, Established Relationship, Fluff, I promise it's really small but if you want me to take it out, I tried my best, Lots of cuddly and adorable gushing, Lots of kissing, M/M, Pinescone Secret Santa 2020, Secret Santa 2020, Weihnukka, Wirt is 23 and Dipper is 21 in this, Wirt is half american/ half German, but I kept it pg-pg13, holiday fluff, i can do that, i hope i did okay, lots of teasing, there's a few moments of sexually charged energy, there's also a couple dirty jokes in there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-12 09:14:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28883001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Colorfullyminded/pseuds/Colorfullyminded
Summary: The snow fell softly over their Massachusetts apartment. The news warned folks to stay indoors, as a cold front would be moving in during the evening, until early the next morning. Thankfully, the young couple had no reason to leave the comfort of their home.They had plans for the night, and no blizzard was going to stop them.If anything, the heavy snowfall was just more incentive for a quiet, romantic night spent celebrating.
Relationships: Dipper Pines/Wirt (Over the Garden Wall)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 8





	Weihnukka

**Author's Note:**

> Pinescone Secret Santa for Cinnamonbees
> 
> She Requested Road trips, Theme parks, cliche holiday cuddles/snow days, or cooking/baking/
> 
> I combined holiday cuddles/snow days and Cooking/baking.

The snow fell softly over their Massachusetts apartment. The news warned folks to stay indoors, as a cold front would be moving in during the evening, until early the next morning. Thankfully, the young couple had no reason to leave the comfort of their home. 

They had plans for the night, and no blizzard was going to stop them.

If anything, the heavy snowfall was just more incentive for a quiet, romantic night spent celebrating.

Inside, along their walls, Christmas lights were hung up by sticky tape, illuminating the room in vibrant reds, yellows, blues and greens; a rainbow of lights, to beautifully contrast the pale white outdoors. Wirt had decorated the bookshelves with Christmas Lights as well, displaying _A Christmas Carol, The Nutcracker, The Polar Express_ , _The Man Who Invented Christmas_ , _Letters From Father Christmas,_ and _The Snow Queen,_ front and center. On the Dining room table sat the menorah, not yet lit. Blue and White Napkins were folded neatly around the table. The TV was playing Hanukkah music throughout the living room, slowly drifting into the open kitchen doorway.

And in the kitchen…

Wirt nimbly tied the strings of his boyfriend’s apron, before tugging the finished bow-- along with said boyfriend-- into his warm embrace. He angled Dipper’s face to the left, pressing kisses along the shorter man’s jawline.

Dipper giggled, stopping his potato peeling-- lest he cut himself because he was distracted-- to instead enjoy the tender affections; the slight scratch from Wirt’s stubble. 

“Not going to shave today?”

Wirt hummed, as he nuzzled Dipper’s cheek, creating more friction. “Don’t feel like it today.”

Dipper twisted his body a little more so he could properly connect their lips in a smooth kiss. Wirt tasted like eggnog and rum. 

“A little early to be drinking, babe. You’re not going to leave me to cook all this food for myself, are you?” Dipper asked, upon pulling away. His grin was entirely playful. 

Wirt followed him, catching Dipper’s lips in another needy kiss. “Hardly. You know I don’t drink to get drunk. I just enjoy some deliciously spiked eggnog, and _Glühwein,_ during the holidays-- who doesn’t? We’ll be cooking all day, a drink or two won’t hurt. If anything, we deserve it for standing in this kitchen, which will become Satan’s domain after we preheat the oven, and turn on all the stove burners.” 

“True,” Dipper mumbled, pulling back, only to be flipped around, and dragged right back into another kiss. He squeaked, mouth crooked in a half grin, and lightly smacked Wirt with the half peeled potato in his hand. “Babe, I need to get back to peeling these potatoes for the Latkes. In fact, you should be peeling some apples for the applesauce, and for the cider.”

Wirt pulled back to look him in the eyes, bottom lip trembling. 

“Don’t give me those puppy dog eyes, if we want everything done by tonight, you’ll get your ass to work.”

Wirt let out a resigned sigh, but his eyes were dancing, “As you wish, Kitten.”

Dipper didn’t immediately pull away, and Wirt didn’t immediately release him.

“...”

“...”  
  


Dipper wrapped his arms around Wirt’s neck, biting his bottom lip. “Maybe just...one more kiss.” 

“ _As you wish, Kitten.”_ Wirt responded, tightening his grip on Dipper’s waist, starting to dip them. He pressed his mouth once more to Dipper’s, hard and desperate for attention. 

Dipper dropped the peeler and potato, threading his fingers through Wirt’s locks, petting softly-- his nonverbal approval. He could wash the peeler later, and he had plenty of potatoes to spare. Right now--- right now, there were more pressing matters to attend to. Namely, Wirt’s lips pressing against his own.

When they finally pulled away, they looked dazed-- lost in each other’s eyes. Their lips were turning red from excessive kissing.

“Did I mention how gorgeous you are-- how absolutely stunning? Because you are, Mason; you’re the most gorgeous, most wonderful man I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing. And truly, you are a pleasure-- my pleasure. My absolute treasure-- _mein Schatz_ ,” Wirt whispered.

“...Are you sure you’re not drunk?” Dipper teased, in hopes it would mask the darkening of his cheeks, the crack of his voice, the way his knees buckled; how he would have sunk to a puddle on the floor had Wirt not had such a tight, protective grip around his waist.

“If you’re talking about my love for you, then yes-- I would say I’m smashed. Completely….as the kids call it...crunk.” Wirt fired back.

“Get to work, dumbass. Loser. ...Nerd...” Dipper tapped the tip of Wirt’s nose with his index finger. His hand shook as he did so, and his insults sounded more like confessions of hopeless pining, even in his own ears. Damn he was so weak, and it was obvious.

“Why don’t you pull away then?” Wirt growled, flashing his canines. He was challenging Dipper; he saw it too.

Dipper didn’t pull away. 

Wirt didn’t let him go.

“Okay, one more!” Dipper told himself, as he twisted the hand still in Wirt’s hair, and pulled his boyfriend down for yet another kiss.

Wirt laughed, wondering if it was possible to get tipsy on kissing.

* * *

Wirt re-tied Dipper’s apron strings, and now the two were ready to cook. They sat opposite each other at the table, each peeling; Wirt peeling apple skins, and Dipper peeling potato skin.

“So we’re making Latkes, Applesauce, Applecider, Peppercorn Crusted Salmon, A Spiced Cranberry Conserve, Red Cabbage, A creamy bratwurst stew-- Kitten, bratwurst is pork? Are you allowed to have that during Weihnukkah?”

“I grew up eating Bacon and Ham-- I don’t exactly adhere to tradition. We were raised non religiously-- in fact, Mabel, at one point, had us celebrating every holiday the winter season had to offer. And as an adult, being agnostic and all, I’m even less tied to the rules of the torah. So I say, let's eat pork!”

“Fair point. Let’s eat pork! Pork’s delicious!” Wirt agreed.

Dipper grinned, pointing his peeler in Wirt’s direction. “Might I also point out that Weihnukkah is the German name combinating Christmas and Hanukkah together-- and well... Christmas, and uhm, you my friend, are also agnostically atheist. You’re not exactly adhering to the Christ in Christmas.”

Wirt paused, then nodded. “Very true. Okay, so we’re both heathens who just want presents…”

“And mistletoe kisses…” Dipper added.

Wirt blushed, smirking as he tried to keep his eyes on the task at hand. He was not going to fall for that trick….a third time. “And mistletoe kisses--”

“Lots of soft, wonderful, kisses under the mistletoe,” Dipper purred, leaning forward.

Wirt didn’t look up, his mouth still tingly and dry from earlier. “Mmm, the holiday seasons are certainly a romantic time.”

“I wonder if I should tie a kissing bough above our bed tonight. See what kind of wonderful kissing will happen--”

Wirt steered the direction back to cooking. Honestly, for all his complaining about getting things done, Dipper was just as bad as him. “Okay, where was I? Uhm-- Oh! Right. We’re also making Noodle Kugel, Honey Balls, and a chocolate Babka. ...Is that too much? It’s just going to be you and me tonight?”

Dipper looked down at the little notepad, containing all the food they would be cooking today. “Well if we’re not snowed in tomorrow, I was thinking we could go to your parent’s house, and bring some leftovers to your mom, stepdad, and Greg.”

“You’re sweet-- I’m sure they’ll appreciate the sentiment. Greg will certainly love the sweets-- you know him. What about Mabel… do you want to drive over to Pacifica’s winter villa to bring them some food too?”

“Oh dear god yes. I love my sister, but Pacifica will thank me for some actual good, home cooking.”

“Is your sister still uhm… experimental? In the kitchen?”

“That’s a very nice way of saying my sister makes inedible, sparkly garbage.”

“That’s not... true…”

“Wirt, Waddles won’t even eat her cooking--and he’ll eat literal garbage! I know, I’ve had to dig him out of our trash cans several times before.”

“Well… she seems to like her… shimmery cooking. You can’t say her food isn’t at least… eye catching.”

“She bedazzled a roast chicken one time!” 

“...And we love her creativity! What an expressive mind! I mean, have you truly ever seen anyone attempt cooking in such a way? That’s commendable.”

Dipper raised a brow. “So who’s cooking do you like better than? Mine or hers?”

Wirt pursed his lips, “This is a trick question. If I say hers, you’ll get all pouty and threaten to never make me strudel again. But If I say yours, your protective brother instincts will kick in, and you’ll say that you’re the only one who can mock her cuisine. So the best answer is to distract you with a compliment that will have you smiling cutely in that way I love. By the way, in case it’s not clear, you have an amazing smile-- the kind that makes even the most nervous of people, like me, feel completely at ease. It’s so genuine, soft-- inviting. It’s the kind of smile that you can call home.”

Dipper blushed, despite himself. _Wirt was good._ “You’re right-- It was a trick question, and you passed. I knew there was a reason I liked keeping you around.”

“For my sharp intellect? Or because I’m a pretty face?” Wirt asked, resting his face in his hand. For added effect, he batted his lashes, feeling ridiculous as he did so. Even being so comfortable with his longtime boyfriend-- even allowed to be dorky with someone equally as dorky as him, there were some things that still made him want to hang his head in shame. Or, at the very least, made the back of his neck hot with embarrassment.

Dipper eyed him up and down. Finally, he replied, with only the warmest of affection, “Both.”

Wirt smiled. “I’ll take it.”

For a moment the two worked in silence, only the music from the living room filling the space between them. It was comforting; festive.

“But, I am still the best cook, by the way. Can you not tell by my ‘kiss the cook’ apron I’m wearing? Which...by the way, there seems to be a lack of that. A lack of kissing the cook.”

Wirt rolled his eyes, placing the peeled apple in the bowl next to him, and reaching for a fresh one from the bag. “You’re trying to misbehave again.”

“And who started it?”

“Hey, I’m being a good little helper now. Look at me, peeling these apples for you. I’m a good, wholesome boy.”

Dipper tapped his lips with his pinky finger. “Really, because my sore, chapping lips would say you’ve been quite naughty.”

“That was then, this is now.”

“That was 20 minutes ago!”

“20 minutes was then, this is now,” Wirt repeated, fighting off the laughter wanting to bubble up.

Dipper switched tactics; now he was batting his eyelashes. “Wirtttt~” 

Wirt ignored him.

Dipper pouted, piling on the charm. “Come on, Wirt, where’s your holiday spirit?”

Wirt glanced up into Dipper’s hopeful expression.

“ _Please?_ Don’t be a Grinch, can’t I have a little more holiday cheer?”

He sighed, before sitting up a little straighter. Then he pressed his hand to his mouth, and blew Dipper a kiss.

Watching Dipper’s excited expression crumble to shock was too good. Wirt howled with laughter.

Dipper’s eyes narrowed, and he turned in his seat, grumbling, “Asshole.”

Once Wirt calmed himself, he took a moment to study Dipper’s face. Dipper’s furrowed brows, his protruding bottom lip, his aggressive peeling-- all signs that he was upset. Even minor as this, Wirt didn’t like seeing his boyfriend-- _his best friend_ \-- upset. Apologies were in order. 

Deciding he teased Dipper enough, he put his rather reckless plan into action. Steeling his nerves, he concentrated for a moment on peeling, lining the knife against the apple-- just inches from his thumb. Taking a deep breath, he sliced up, instead of down. 

“Shit!” Dipper looked up just as Wirt dropped the knife and apple he’d be peeling.

“What? What happened?” Dipper put his stuff down, getting up out of his seat.

“The knife slipped and I nicked myself,” Wirt explained, clutching his hand, and looking over the cut. 

It was tiny, the blood oozing out slow, like molasses. Honestly, you could barely call it a cut-- more of a shallow scratch-- but it would be just enough to grab Dipper’s attention, which was exactly what Wirt was hoping for.

_...In hindsight, there were probably other ways to get Dipper’s attention then this._

But then Dipper took his hand, and looked it over himself, gently stroking Wirt’s wrist-- almost subconsciously. Dipper did that a lot-- running his hands over Wirt while they were curled up on the couch, watching Television. While Wirt was reading, and Dipper came up from behind him, wrapping his arms around the poet’s neck. He would just start petting Wirt. These comforting, continuous, steady strokes.

It was cute. Wirt had fallen asleep more times to Dipper’s gentle musings than he could count.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. It doesn’t really hurt, just kinda stings. Is it bleeding?”

Dipper squinted his eyes. “A little? It’s starting to. Uhm, I can get you a bandage before it gets worse? We should have some in the bathroom.”

“Yeah, good idea… But, uhm...before you do that…”

Dipper looked at him.

“Do you mind kissing it better?” Wirt asked, eyebrow arched, head cocking slightly to the side-- trying to keep his expression neutral. _Play it cool, Wirt._

Dipper flushed red at the question. “Uhm...oh! Y-yeah, I...okay.” Dipper pulled Wirt’s hand closer, tentatively pressing his lips to the side of Wirt’s thumb. _Wirt could be really sappy sometimes._

Wirt bit his lip, pretending he was thinking-- _really, he was scheming._ “You know, I read that saliva helps heal a cut faster. I was going to do it myself...but since you’re already kissing it...maybe...would you mind?”

Dipper’s eyes snapped open; he glanced at his boyfriend. As the words registered, Wirt watched the freckles disappear from Dipper’s face, the blush darkening to a deep crimson. 

“Would that be okay? You don’t have to if you don’t want to.” Wirt said. Obviously, if Dipper was too uncomfortable by the suggestion, Wirt wasn’t going to push it. This was meant to be harmless fun, the last thing he wanted was to make it weird, or upset Dipper further.

But then, Dipper’s eyelids lowered, and Wirt felt the soft, wet press of Dipper’s tongue gently soothing the wound.

_Okay… welp._

Spark ignited, he pulled his hand away, and before Dipper could comment, wrapped both arms around Dipper’s waist, pulling him right into Wirt’s lap.

“Wah! W-wirt!”

Wirt tangled his fingers in the bow behind Dipper’s back, loosening the apron strings. His grey eyes were dark, and wanting. His mouth was curving up, in what could only be described as adorably wicked.

The crimson on Dipper’s cheeks was threatening to turn maroon. “This was a trick! You tricked me! You said you were a good, wholesome boy!”

“Mmmm, I’ve changed my mind. It’s more fun being on the naughty list~” Wirt flexed his arms, squeezing Dipper’s waist.

Dipper squeaked, “You son of a--”

Wirt reached up, cradling the back of Dipper’s neck, before pulling him down to connect their lips.

Dipper didn’t really seem too angry after that.

* * *

Wirt, once more, re-tied Dipper’s apron.

“These loose apron strings are becoming a problem,” Wirt mumbled.

Dipper glanced back at him, smirking. “They come loose, because someone keeps untying them. I think you just want an excuse to put me in a bow, over and over again.”

“I do like unwrapping and re wrapping you up. The wrapping paper is the best part of the holidays, in my opinion.”

Dipper snorts, grating the last potato into the bowl. “And Mabel thinks I’m bad.”

“Shush, I pride myself on my reputable reputation.” 

“What would she think if she knew you were a filthy degenerate?”

Wirt tightened the bow, then turned to check the timer on his phone. “Tell her, and you’ll get no more filthy degeneracy from me. For all your complaining, you’re still as bad-- you absolutely enable me.”

“Slander. Lies and slander.”

“You’re the one who begged me to kiss you.”

“...but you took it too far.”

The two stood next to each other by the stove, Wirt boiling apples until they were soft and mashable, and Dipper ringing the water out of the shredded potatoes with the cheesecloth.

Wirt turned, eyebrows furrowed in concern. “Did I really?”

Dipper looked down, shuffling nervously from foot to foot. “Uhm, no. Not really. Like, at all. I uhm...it was fun.” Dipper looked back up, smiling bashfully. His face was still hot from all the earlier blushing; he just had to contend with the fact that he was going to be flustered for the rest of the day. “I enjoyed the kissing.”

Wirt’s brow unfurrowed, his body going lax upon hearing Dipper’s admission. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Wirt stepped closer, pressing a chaste kiss to Dipper’s forehead. Dipper’s lips seriously needed a break-- Wirt reminded himself to find some chapstick as soon as possible. “I love you, dork.”

“I love you too, nerd.”

The timer on Wirt’s phone went off, and Wirt reluctantly pulled away. He swiped off on his alarm, and turned off the current burner. Grabbing a pair of kitchen mitts, he picked up the large stainless steel pot, and sidestepped the adventurer on his way to the sink, and the strainer he left sitting inside. He poured out the pot of boiling water, shaking out the excess water still on the apples, before dumping them back into the pot.

Returning to the stove, he asked, “Dipper, the potato masher please?” to which Dipper opened the drawer closest to him, and passed him the utensil.

Wirt rolled his sleeves up to his elbows, and rolled his shoulders back. “This part is going to kill me.” He took the masher and got to work.

Dipper responded correctly-- which was to say-- blatantly staring as Wirt’s arms strained and tensed through the mashing process. “Yes, but it’s giving me the best view.”

“You have latkes to fry, and if you’re distracted, you’re going to have grease burns all over your body.”

Dipper sighed, taking the shredded potato and dumping it into a bowl of chopped onion, eggs, flour, baking powder, salt, and pepper, and began to knead the ingredients together. “You’re no fun-- just let me gawk like the bi disaster I am.”

“You’re the one who wants to have all this cooking done by tonight. We’ve barely done two things, and we have several dishes, and I’m already sweating my ass off from the heat.” He reached up, wiping the sweat from his brow with his forearm.

Dipper watched him, mesmerized. “Uhm…”

“Dipper!”

“I’m working!”

“You very clearly want to make out again!”

“...no…”

Wirt flexed his biceps.

“...shit.”

“Dipper! Your lips can’t take anymore kissing-- I’m pretty sure they’ll fall off!”

“Is that a challenge?”

“This is just another tactic to distract me-- and it’s working! You need to stop being a problem!”

“You like me being a problem!”

“I do, but Kitten, please-- food! Kisses will be rewarded after!”

“Don’t gatekeep your lips! They deserved to be shared…”

Wirt raised an eyebrow.

“...With me. Specifically me. Only me. I should have made that more clear.”

Wirt stepped closer, pressing another kiss to Dipper’s forehead. Dipper whined, partially at the misplacement, but that whine quickly turned into a hum of contentment the longer Wirt held his kiss there.

When he pulled away, Wirt was staring at Dipper like he was the best thing ever, which was embarrassing to be the receiver of such a look. But, Dipper admitted, there was something wonderful about having someone looking at him that way-- for it to be reciprocated, for once.

“Let’s finish cooking, and for the rest of the night, you can have whatever you want.”

“Anything? That’s a lot of power to give to a megalomaniac.”

“Which you are not,” Wirt reminded him.

“I will be if you give me everything I want.”

“Maybe I just want to spoil you tonight.”

“You want to spoil me every night.”

Wirt smiled and cupped Dipper’s cheek. “Yeah, and? Is that wrong to want to give you what you deserve?”

Dipper leaned into his touch, stomach fluttering with butterflies. Honestly, it was crazy to believe he could be this happy. This kind of happiness-- he always felt was reserved for someone like his sister. This kind of odd, romantic pampering-- he thought there was no way he’d enjoy this-- no way someone would consider him in that way. “Now who’s the enabler?” He said, deflecting.

“Let’s finish Weihnukka dinner, and tonight I’m all yours to celebrate.” Wirt promised, pulling him closer. He tilted Dipper’s chin up, his lips just ghosting over the other man’s.

“Wirt, come on.” Dipper strained on his tippy toes to reconnect their lips, but Wirt was much taller, and he would shy just inches away whenever Dipper got too close.

“After,” Wirt promised, pecking Dipper’s nose instead. 

Dipper grounded himself. “Anything I want?” He asked, once more. To be sure.

“Everything,” Wirt answered.

Everything was a lot to offer. Dipper turned away, trying to calm his rapid heartbeat.

He blinked his eyes, fighting back the overwhelming well of emotions.

“Everything…” Dipper repeated, as if unsure he heard correctly. 

“Everything...” He reaffirmed, the realization dawning. 

“Everything.” He whispered. 

Wirt said nothing more. He silently worked, smiling all the while.

* * *

The table was finally set, plates of warm dishes covering every inch of the table. Steam rose, the smell all encompassing-- mouth watering. The time was nearing 8 in the evening. 

Before they sat down to enjoy their hard earned meal-- Wirt’s stomach was literally crying out, practically digging a hole through him-- Dipper grabbed Wirt’s arm and pulled him close.

“Huh? But...food…” Wirt whined.

“We gotta light the menorah first.”

Wirt stood a little straighter. “Oh, okay.”

Dipper removed a light from his pocket and lit the Shamash. Then he picked up the helper candle, and held it towards Wirt.

Wirt’s eyes widened. “You want me to light it? Are you sure?”

Dipper smiled, taking Wirt’s hand, and wrapping it around his own. “I figured we could do it together. This is technically your first Hanukkah?”

Wirt swallowed and stepped closer, his chest pressing snugly against Dipper’s back. “Yeah, it is. I uhm-- thank you… for letting me be a part of this.”

Dipper guided Wirt’s hand to the first candle.

“Light one candle for the Maccabee children, give thanks that their light didn’t die,” Dipper sang, his voice cracking slightly.

He moved to the next candle. “Light one candle for the pain they endured when their right to exist was denied.”

They moved to the third candle. “Light one candle for the terrible sacrifice justice and freedom demand.”

Wirt listened closely to Dipper’s half singing, half speaking, not wanting to interrupt the moment. This was special, and he was just thankful to share in such a moment with the one he loved.

“Light one candle for the wisdom to know when the peacemaker’s time is at hand.”

On the fifth candle, Dipper sang, “Light one candle for the strength that we need to never become our own foe.”

On the sixth: “Light one candle for those who are suffering, the pain we learned so long ago.”

From the seventh, he sang, “Light one candle for all we believe in, let anger not tear us apart.”

Dipper’s hand trembled slightly as they got to the last candle. Despite himself, he felt strangely emotional as they prepared to light the last candle. Even Stan told him, despite no longer being religious, that lighting the menorah with family tends to bring him strangely to tears. Perhaps it was just that, that he was with his family.

_His family._

It was Wirt who helped to guide Dipper’s hand to light the last candle. 

“And light one candle, to bind us together, with peace as the song in our heart.”

All 9 candles lit, Dipper returned the Shamash to its proper place.

“That was nice, is that usually the tradition? The song you sing when you light the menorah?”

Dipper laughed, “No-- uhm, haha, no. I was uhm, trying something. I don’t know how well it worked, but it-- it’s a song that gets played a lot, and I think the beat is a little too bouncy for my taste-- so I tried doing something softer. Uhm, again, this is my first real attempt and I have uhm, no clue how it’s working.”

“Well, you did a great job. It worked very well. My heart feels like crying, but in a good way.”

“Yeah?” Dipper craned his head back.

“Yeah.” Wirt leaned forward, pressing his lips to Dipper’s. 

When they pulled away, Dipper nuzzled against Wirt’s chest, more reserved than normal. “The uhm… actually the song that’s sung is called Rock of Ages or uhm the Maoz Tzur. I was… the first thing I did was kind of a warm up before I completely ruined the actual tradition.”

Wirt leaned over to look at Dipper’s bashful expression.

“Don’t laugh.”

“I’m not going to laugh.”

Dipper squirmed. “I mean it.”

“I’m not laughing, Dipper.”  
  


“Cause I’m like… not good, and my voice cracks all the time, and I’m probably going to butcher the language and--”

Wirt silenced him with another kiss. Pulling away, he replied, “ _Mason, I love you_. I’m not going to laugh. I just want to do this right-- with you.”

Dipper nodded. “Okay.”

Then he took a deep breath, and began to sing the Hebrew song. 

Wirt quietly listened, and anytime Dipper stuttered, or began to lose his nerve, Wirt would stroke his hair, or squeeze his arm, sending silent encouragement for Dipper to continue. And Dipper did, curling more into the protective embrace.

When Dipper finished, he peeked at Wirt to gauge his reaction.

He was surprised to see tear treks on Wirt’s cheeks. “Was I...was I that bad?”

Wirt shook his head. “No. That was uhm…” He took a breath, before continuing. “I’m thankful, being here with you. Celebrating these two holidays together. I’m thankful to just be a part of your world. I’m thankful that you’re mine...that I’m yours. I’m just...I’m really happy. I’ve always been a sentimental fool-- and the holidays bring out the worst of it. I’m just a mess of sap. I try playing it cool-- try to seem all put together and indifferent to life’s splendor--”

“--Oh do you?” Dipper teased, even as he began tearing up, as he started sniffling.

“But I crack when the holidays come around, turning into a child again. It’s even worse now, because I’m celebrating my favorite holiday with my favorite person. And not just that-- I’m a part of another tradition. This tradition that we-- well we didn’t make it, it’s been around since the 19th century-- but we chose this tradition. This tradition is ours. This is ours. Yours and mine. And we-- the thought of doing it next year, and the year after...the thought of this every year. I uhm...heh…” And finally, words had eluded him.

He buried his face against Dipper’s neck, and Dipper could hear his happy, nervous little sobs, feel the tears on his neck.

“Ours,” Dipper repeated, clutching Wirt close, rubbing the poet’s back. “Hehehe, ours. This is ours, isn’t it?”

“Heheh...y-..yeah…”

And the two just stood, holding one another, with the menorah burning brightly beside them, illuminating the room in a warm glow. A welcoming burn.

_A gentle home._

“We should eat...before all our hard work gets cold,” Dipper suggested, after a long moment of quiet reflection.

Wirt pulled away, wiping the tears away with the back of his hand. “Good, I’m starving. You’ve starved me, and made me cry.”

“You said I could have anything I wanted once we finished cooking.”

“I did say that,” Wirt admitted, with feigned reluctance.

“Well I want you a sentimental fool, starving for my affection...and my cooking.”

“Pure evil-- you’re absolutely spoiled,” Wirt wrapped his arms around Dipper’s waist, slipping his thumbs through Dipper’s belt loops.

Dipper pressed his lips to Wirt’s, taking charge. “And who’s fault is that, for making me so spoiled?”

“And I don’t regret it for one second. If anything, you should be more spoiled.”

“You really do want to turn me into a megalomaniac?”

“No...I just think you deserve to be treasured.”

_Treasured._

“I think you deserve to be treasured,” Dipper said right back.

“Let’s both be spoiled and treasured then,” Wirt suggested.

Dipper liked that idea, _very much_ . “That was the plan. We got 7 more nights of this. Which means 7 more nights of flirting and being sappy.”

“And then Christmas. In which I’m going to explode into Wirt shaped molasses.”

“Basically all of December has just been a blur of kisses and over indulgence.”

“Good. We work hard, we fucking deserve one month of over indulging.”

“Speaking of over indulging-- you wanna eat until we’re sick?”

“Please-- my stomach is eating itself.”

Dipper laughed, patting Wirt’s arm. “Then let’s feast-- afterwards, I have an idea of what I want from you tonight.”

“Yeah?” Wirt replied, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Yeah! But now it’s your turn to wait. Come on, sit! Sit, because I want to get to _after._ ” Dipper said, pushing him towards a chair.

Wirt chuckled, allowing himself to be manhandled. He couldn’t help wondering what was in store.

* * *

Dipper’s plans after dinner entailed laying on the couch, cuddling, while watching Fiddler on the Roof. On their coffee table sat the Muppets Christmas Carol, and The Nightmare Before Christmas, ready to be played afterwards. It was a musical night tonight. Wirt ran his fingers across Dipper’s spine, tapping to the rhythm of the music.

Dipper mouthed the words under his breath.

“Oh, I almost forgot…” Wirt suddenly said, sticking his hands between the couch cushions, searching. After a moment, he pulled his hand back out, containing a small rectangular object, wrapped in newspaper. Dipper’s interest was piqued.

“Presents?”

“You give a present, one for every night, right? Something usually homemade-- though it doesn’t have to be. But uhm, I thought I’d try something.” He handed the newspaper wrapped gift.

Dipper took it. It didn’t weigh a lot, about the size of a composition notebook. Dipper could probably guess what it was. “Wirt, you’re going to make me cry.”

“Open it first, before you start crying.”

So Dipper did. Sure enough, it was a composition notebook, with the words “to Mason” written on the front.

Dipper flipped to the first page, ready to read, and nearly dropped the notebook. “Wait… woah is this?” Dipper squinted at the words. They weren’t written in the language, but Dipper, upon reading the first line, could vaguely understand what it said. “This is Yiddish!”

Dipper flipped to the next page. And then the next. He flipped through every page, until he’d gotten to the end. The writing was all the same-- written in english, but the words were very clearly Yiddish. “This is your handwriting! Did you… did you write this all yourself?”

Wirt rubbed the back of his neck, “I had some help. But I thought maybe-- I wanted to try something special. Is it too much? It feels like it’s too much. I should have just written the poems in english-- or German. Yiddish feels like I’m trying too hard, and I don’t really know it that well. I probably made a ton of mistakes, words that don’t make sense, or words that mean something else entirely and I maybe it was a lot--”

Dipper interrupted him, laying a hand on his boyfriend’s chest. “Wirt, I love it. The fact that you did this for me, studied another language that I kind of recognize, and filled this whole thing with poetry from that language. That took so much time and thought-- this is true sentimental. I can’t wait to read it.”

“Will you...would you read some of it to me? I really liked hearing your voice when you sang that song. The maoz tzur song.”  
  


“I’d be happy to, though it might sound different. That song is Hebrew, and I only know the words cause Grunkle Stan and Ford taught us it. I’m more familiar with Yiddish, which is more common here. Funny enough, Yiddish is a German dialect, so once more we’re kind of combining our cultures.”

Wirt smiled. “Yeah, it’s uhm. Gosh, I shouldn’t feel so giddy when you say ours. But it just-- it melts my insides, reminded that this-- we get to do this again.”

“For many years.” Dipper said, running his hand lovingly over the dried ink of Wirt’s penmanship.

He started to read the first couple lines of one particular poem that caught his interest, turning the words over in his mind, until they clicked into place.

_“I light the candles, and place them on the tree,_

_To guide your way, a beacon to me._

_The candles glow a warm embrace,_

_Like the memories of family you’d never replace._

_I light the candles, and place them on the tree,_

_To light the way back home to me._

_We share our candles, a warm embrace,_

_Of the love that I could never replace._

_I light the candles, upon my tree,_

_It’s how you will come home to me._

_We share our candles, a loving embrace,_

_For the traditions we make, we won’t replace.”_

Dipper tapped the page, once more fighting the wave of tears building up. “You wrote this for Weihnukka, didn’t you?”

“I might have gotten a little excited for the holiday, and maybe attempted a poem here or there. It’s no Charles Dickens masterpiece, but there was an attempt.”

“It was made by you, for me-- and that beats any book written by some dead guy in the 19th century.”

“That’s so sweet, but do not compare me to Dickens, and tell me I’m the winner. I will fight you on those words.”

“I think you’re a better poet then Dickens-- because you learned Yiddish, and filled an entire notebook, cover to cover with original poetry, written in Yiddish, just to impress me.”

“Stop! Do not pull this man down to my level. He is far too great to be--”

Dipper smacked Wirt with the composition notebook. “Silence! I’m showering you in praise and you will accept it! Accept my love!”

“Ack! I’ll die before I admit I’m better than Dickens.”

“Dickens is dead-- he won’t be offended.”

“His spirit will know, and then I’ll get haunted by him, and he’ll drag me off on an epic, winter adventure, of my life long accomplishments and memories-- just for him to tell me I’m a pompous dick, with lackluster writing skills, and his cute, but ignorant boyfriend is completely wrong.”

“Keep talking shit and you won’t get your present.”

Wirt grabbed the next incoming attack from the notebook, he lowered the book, his eyes sparkling with anticipation. “Present?”

“You get present if you apologize to yourself.”

Wirt whined.

“Be nice to my boyfriend, or you get no gifts this Weihnukka.”

Wirt huffed, “I’m sorry…”

Dipper raised a brow, lips pursed.

Wirt sighed louder, “ _I’m sorry, Me.”_

Dipper pushed the notebook, until it was poking Wirt’s cheek.

Wirt pushed the notebook away and groaned, “I’m wonderful and talented, I’m a great poet in my own right! I don’t need to compare myself to dead poets of the past, because my standards aren’t theirs; the only thing that matters is my self worth-- and from that standpoint...I guess I…. _no, I know I did a damn good job with what I made, so I should be proud_. It’s not perfect, but...I did it. And you’re right….it did come from the heart-- I meant every bit of it. So, I guess...yeah...I guess that was kind of awesome.”

Dipper pulled the notebook away, seeing Wirt’s little spark of confidence blooming. He smiled, happy to see the subtle change in his poet’s demeanor. Wirt was best when he was kind to himself-- and Dipper loved, more than anything, Wirt being kind to himself. Because that was his boyfriend, and his boyfriend was talented, and sweet, and thoughtful, and basically too damn good at being awesome. So when he was kind to himself, he shined even brighter.

“...okay, present! Gimme!” Wirt said, changing the subject to hide how flustered he was becoming. 

Dipper laughed, setting the composition book on the coffee table. 

“I'm glad you didn’t hide your present in that couch cushion, because man, this would have been awkward if you found my gift.” Dipper reached into the middle couch cushion, rummaging around until he too found what he was looking for, and pulled another rectangular present from it’s pillowy depths.

Then, after a minute, Dipper glanced down at their couch, and pondered aloud, “What is all under here? We’re hiding presents in here-- what other secrets does this couch contain?”

Wirt smirked, “Oh I know one thing I’ve stashed under here.”

Dipper lifted his head, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“You know...for nights when we want to cuddle on the couch...and not move...to the more spacious…. _cuddling_... of our bedroom.”

Dipper cheeks turned red, and flustered, he chucked his gift in Wirt’s face.

“I’m just being prepared! It’s what a good boyfriend does!” Wirt laughed.

“You don’t stash _that_ under the cushions!”

“Oh, and how many times has _that_ come in handy?”

Dipper went dead silent. He sunk further into the ugly Hanukkah Sweater his sister had knitted him.

“Yeah, you complain now-- but you’ll be thanking me tonight, when the mood isn’t ruined because I had to get it from our nightstand,” Wirt winked.

“Go back to having no confidence--! I take it back, you’re too powerful!” Dipper covered his face with his hands.

“No, you’re wanted this, now reap the sexy, overconfidence that you’ve sown.”

“Ahhh, just open your present, you nerd, before I kiss you.”

“That’s your threat?”

“I’m flustered! SHUT UP! OPEN YOUR GIFT AND GET ALL SENTIMENTAL!”

So Wirt did. 

Inside was a journal, leather bound. Unlike his composition, this journal was hefty, and looked like it was about to explode from the seams, photos and different colored papers protruding out the sides of some of the pages. Wirt unwound the clasp of the journal and opened it.

_“To my partner in crime. Thanks for keeping me out of trouble. And always having my back. This journal is dedicated to our adventures. The good and bad. Mostly the good-- and even the bad ones were always more bearable because I was with you. You’ve kept me sane these past 5 years-- to think one day I would be lucky to be more than just your best friend. That one day I would be yours. That you would be mine. Wow I’m uhm-- okay, I’m not going to get all mushy on the first page, that’s just pathetic. There’s like… pages of more embarrassing myself to get through and uhm---I’m still rambling. How do you ramble through writing? Holy shit, keep it together Pines--”_

Under the dark blue ink of Dipper’s familiar handwriting, was the pink, glittery, loopy scrawl of Mabel’s penmanship.

“GET MUSHY YOU DINGUS! THIS IS LIKE THE CUTEST THING I’VE EVER BEEN APART OF-- AND I PLANNED A WADDLES/GOMPERS WEDDING! AND IT’S YOU-- I’M BOTH OFFENDED YOU DID SOMETHING THIS ADORABLE, AND INCREDIBLY PROUD! Oh, and Wirt? Thanks for watching over my brother, and making sure he doesn’t kill himself! Take good care of him from now on, cause I’m not always going to be there to help him out of jam-- Mabel’s got things she wants to do too! So I’m relying on you to support him. Be good to him, he loves you.”

Dipper’s handwriting came right after her message, this one more hastily scrawled, “Mabel, I can take care of myself!”

Mabel: responded with, “...But you _like_ when he takes care of you.”

Dipper: Stop embarrassing me! I’ll remove you from this project!

Mabel: NO, THE SAPPINESS OF MY BRO BROS TRUE LOVE! PLEASE, I’LL BE GOOD! (;﹏;)

Dipper: I regret asking for your help.

Wirt laughed-- he could see the conversation perfectly in his head. 

He flipped to the next page, where he saw the entry of his first meeting with the twins-- the day his parents took a vacation with him and Greg to Gravity Falls Oregon. There was even a picture of Wirt accidentally knocking off one of the mystery shack shelves-- his horrified face memorialized in the journal, as snow globes shattered all around him. 

“I was so pissed at you, cause I knew I’d have to be the one to clean it up-- I wanted to strangle you that day,” Dipper admitted, as he eyed the picture.

“I felt so bad-- I couldn’t stop apologizing.”

“Yeah...that...that made me want to strangle you less.”

“And now?”

“I uhm… well I think you know how I feel now.”

Wirt smiled, flipping through the journal. Each entry was carefully crafted, recounted through Dipper’s clear, yet excitable penmanship, recollecting a day in their lives-- an adventure the two shared in. Many of the entries had photo documentation-- which Wirt found surprisingly, and on some occasions, embarrassing, considering the circumstances of some of those adventures-- until he remembered Mabel often brought her camera for a scrapbookortunity! Anything that didn’t have a photo, was drawn in either by Dipper, or Mabel’s hand. Hell there were even a few guest drawings from Greg, which had Wirt choking back tears. About halfway through, there was no more holding back, Wirt was blubbering, his voice a mix of sobs and laughter. 

“You like it?” Dipper asked, just to be sure.

Wirt closed the journal, running his hand tenderly over the cover. “I love it. I love you, Mason Pines. I love being your partner in crime. Everyday has been an adventure, since I’ve met you-- and everyday, I hope to wake up to another one. I bless my life, that when I wake up, I get to see your face, typing away on your laptop; still curled in bed just because you’re waiting to start the day with me. That you wait with me, so we can go together. I love that I can stand beside you as your equal, as your lover. I love that we’re a team, you and I. Mason, I’m glad that I’m yours.”

“I’m glad that I’m yours,” Dipper said back, his hazel eyes shining, glittering from the lights of their living room.

“I hope we continue to get into trouble-- I hope we continue making memories. I hope the adventure never ends.”

“To be honest, with you, even if I never fought another monster, or studied another paranormal sighting-- if we lived mundane, 9 to 5 jobs-- I still think it’d be an adventure.”

“You would certainly find a way to cause trouble,” Wirt teased, delighting in Dipper’s laughter as a response.

“I would definitely be restless, and try to make it interesting, that’s for sure. I just meant-- it doesn’t matter what I do in the future. As long as you’re by my side… I’m not scared.”

He crawled forward, pushing Wirt back against the armrest, to curl comfortably in the poet’s arms. 

“I’m not either.” Wirt ran his hands through Dipper’s hair-- gentle, comforting strokes. Dipper mimicked the motions against Wirt’s abdomen.

After a moment basking in the emotions each other’s presence had caused them, Dipper lifted his head off Wirt’s chest, staring deeply into the man’s warm, grey eyes.

“What is is, mein schatz?” Wirt asked.

Dipper puckered his lips, hopefully.

“You want more?” Wirt chuckled, caressing the back of Dipper’s head, “You’re so greedy.”

“You wanted to spoil me, now look at me-- I’m spoiled. Absolutely insatiable.”

“Mmmm, good~” Wirt craned their heads closer, nuzzling Dipper’s nose with his own.

“You’re going to take care of this, right?” Dipper breathed, his voice lowering an octave. His eyelids fluttered, as he returned the nuzzled affections, tenfold.

“I’m going to take care of you,” Wirt promised.

“And I’m going to take care of you too. You deserve as much spoiling as I do. You said it yourself-- let’s be spoiled and treasured all throughout December. It’s what we deserve. And I think… we...deserve...more...kissing…” With each line, Dipper moved closer and closer, until their lips had grazed each other’s.

Wirt suddenly pulled back, reminded of something. “Wait, before we do that…” He said, sticking his hand back between the couch cushions. A second later, he removed his hand, holding a tub of chapstick between his thumb and index finger.

Dipper’s eyes sparkled at their saving grace, “Oh thank god, my lips are burning. You’re the best!”

“Thank our couch that is also secretly a compartment of lost goods.” 

Wirt uncapped the lid and put some on his lips, before gently taking Dipper’s face to apply the chapstick to his boyfriend.

“How do your lips feel now?” Wirt asked.

Dipper rubbed his lips together, before answering, “Still sore, and tingly from the chapstick...but I’m all ready for more kissing.”

“Good,” Wirt said, recapping the lid, and shoving it in his pocket, before taking Dipper’s face in both hands. “So am I.”

The snow whirled outside their Massachusetts apartment. The blizzard had hit-- outside, it was cold, merciless. Thankfully, the young couple had no reason to leave the comfort of their home-- to pay the storm any mind-- washed in the reds and blues and greens of the Christmas lights, awashed in the burning yellow glow of the Menorah, still burning strong. _Inside their little home, surrounded by their new tradition, the young couple only felt the warmth and love that came with the holidays._

“Happy Weihnukka, _Wirt_ ,” Dipper whispered.

“Happy Weihnukka, _Mason,_ ” Wirt whispered. 

And Wirt pulled Dipper close.

**Author's Note:**

> Weihnukka is a holiday celebrated in Germany that combines Christmas (Weihnachten) and Hanukkah.
> 
> I've always headcanoned Wirt as Half American-Half German, ever since someone said his name might be German. Alex said the twins were raised non religiously, but a lot of people headcanon them Jewish, and I just wanted to give Hannukah a bit more love, because we don't see it enough in stories. 
> 
> And once I heard about Weihnukka, which has been around since the 19th century, I got really inspired with the two combining traditions. The two get to celebrate both holidays, being with the person they love most.
> 
> I just wanted something cute-- full of playful teasing, and lots of sap, with a little holiday heart from both sides. I had plans to add more cooking scenes, but the story just kept getting longer and longer, and the things I wanted to add just took precedence over minor cooking scenes. But I had a lot more plans to go through, a lot more recipes I wanted to write. I'm sorry, I hope what I had is still okay.
> 
> _Also just in case I need to say it, please be respectful. I did some research and I found out Germany has the third largest Jewish Community in Europe, and I believe 9th largest population overall (as of 2018-- I haven't seen anything of the current year). That's still rather small, and while there's still plenty of problems with Antisemitism in the country, it seems like Germany is constantly trying to push back against Alt Right Wing organizations and Neo Nazism-- they're trying not to repeat the horrors of their history. Meanwhile, America's Neo Nazi's and Anti Semitics, Racists, just all around shitty people are just blatantly, out in the open, causing an insurgence outside The White House. I just really don't want people thinking I wrote this to be mean or hurt anyone. German does not mean Nazi._
> 
> _Sorry, I just wanted to express that because I don't want to see comments calling this story antisemitic because I HC Wirt as German._
> 
> _Most of the time I hc Wirt and Dipper as agnostically atheist-- or just non religious, but this was a holiday secret santa, and I wanted to give love to two holidays commonly celebrated during the winter months, including a holiday I'm not familiar with, but am always trying to learn more about._
> 
> _The last thing I want is someone to think that I'm trying to make fun of, or hurt a population of people, so please be kind._
> 
> _If there are genuine concerns or things that I got wrong while writing this-- especially while writing Hanukkah traditions, then I definitely want to hear what I can do to improve on my writing. I'm always trying to better myself in diversity. If there's something I left out that I really should have mentioned, or there's something that I messed up, please let me know._
> 
> _And for everyone, I hope you enjoy this. This is simply supposed to be a cute, winter fluff. Cinnamonbees, I hope this fic was to your liking. If there's anything you need me to change, please let me know._


End file.
